


i put a spell on you

by cori_the_bloody



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff, Halloween, Humor...well i think i'm funny anyway, Meet-Cute, ridiculous situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-27 15:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8407033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cori_the_bloody/pseuds/cori_the_bloody
Summary: Clarke has to face facts: she’s stuck in her costume.And she really has to pee.Clarke connects with a gorgeous stranger at a Halloween costume party but doesn't catch her name. Enlisting the help of her friends, she goes on a cross-campus search to find her enchanting librarian.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Word Count:** 2,860  
>  **Author's Note:** a huge thank you to [elizanose](http://elizanose.tumblr.com/) for offering to beta and smoothing out the rough edges of this fic. :D  
>  i had a lot of fun writing this, so hopefully you have some fun reading it!

“Dammit!” Clarke slumps against the bathroom wall in defeat. “Raven was right. I’m too drunk for this.”

She gives her billowing, spider-web-inspired sleeve one last tug, trying to untangle it from little metal clasps on the front of her corset, but it’s no use. She has to face facts: she’s stuck in her costume.

And she really has to pee.

Options…options…what are her options?

She could wade back into the sea of people to find Raven or Octavia and ask for help, though that would compromise her dignity _and_ primo bathroom time. She could find a creative way around the costume, but that’s definitely going to be easier said than done.

Outside the closed door, a chorus of “ _Chug, chug, chug_ ,” starts up, audible even over the reverberating bass of the speaker system.

“Option two it is,” Clarke mumbles to herself, gathering the material of her gauzy skirt in her fist.

The real issue is that the base of her costume is a blood-red leotard, and to get that off, she’d have to remove both the webby slip and the corset that are overtop of the piece.

She really should have invested in something with snaps. Something that’s easy to remove even when the room is starting to go topsy-turvy on you.

Tripping over to the toilet, Clarke puts the lid down and sits on top of it. She closes her eyes for a second, trying to drown out the party sounds enough to think.

Suddenly, the door crashes open and a girl in a skirt suit way too formal for a college rager and a crisp red button up slips inside. She slams the door closed again and leans against it, her eyes closed and her chest heaving.

“Um, do you mind?”

“Oh my god!” The girl jumps about 10 feet in the air.

“Whoa there. Deep breaths,” Clarke says. When color returns to the stranger’s cheeks, she adds, “This is why the high-strung should stay home on Halloween. Their fragile hearts can’t take the spooky thrill.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” the girl says. “Though, for the record, it’s not even Halloween and you should really lock the door if you don’t want people walking in on you.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

High-strung girl rolls her eyes at Clarke’s derisive tone.

As she’s turning to leave, though, Clarke realizes something.

“Wait!” she blurts.

High-strung turns back, cocking her eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I could, um…I’m kinda stuck. Could you maybe undo me so I can pee?” Clarke asks, standing from the toilet and gesturing to her costume.

High-strung’s eyes rove down Clarke’s body and a tiny smirk tugs at her lips. “What are you anyway? Sexy sex appeal?”

Clarke scoffs. “ _No_.”

“Well?”

Shaking her head, Clarke says, “Sexy vampire.”

Her smirk is fully pronounced now. “I see.”

“Whatever, Miss Secretary…or hospital administrator…or whatever you are. Are you gonna help me or not?”

High-strung laughs and moves toward Clarke. “Sure.”

Clarke watches her long, slender fingers as they make quick work of the corset clasps. She takes a deep breath as soon as the garment’s completely undone. 

“And, for your information,” the girl says, impassive, as she turns, giving Clarke privacy to use the bathroom, “I’m a librarian.”

Clarke lets her gaze linger on the perfect bun pulled tight on the top of High-strung’s head and the way her skirt hugs the curve of her ass and hums to herself.

Louder, she says, “Lame. You didn’t want to spend money on a costume.”

“So what?”

With barking laughter, Clarke flushes and pulls her leotard back on before washing her hands. “Touché.”

“This holiday’s just an excuse to drink anyway,” High-strung says, and their eyes meet in the mirror. Clarke tries not to notice how mesmerizingly green High-strung’s are and fails. “No need to go all out simply to get too wasted to remember your night.”

“But it’s fun,” Clarke says, pivoting on her heel and cocking her head. “Will you lace me back up?”

High-strung adjusts her glasses and nods.

“Is fun really worth needing a stranger’s help to pee?” she asks, keeping her eyes trained on her hands as they carefully pull Clarke’s costume back together.

Clarke watches her squint with concentration, noting the way her tongue pokes between her teeth, and smiles to herself.

“I dunno, it’s working out pretty well for me so far.” She winks at High-strung, who blushes.

Once she’s all laced up, Clarke glances at her reflection in the mirror. “Besides, my tits look great in this outfit, and _that’s_ worth needing a stranger’s help to pee.”

Though she looks like she’s trying to fight it, High-strung’s gaze drops to Clarke’s cleavage. When her eyes pull back up to Clarke’s, there’s a dazed expression on her face.

Clarke laughs and steps into her personal space, tugging High-strung even closer by the lapel of her blazer where a small bronze and black pin with a coat of arms is secured.

“Thanks for undoing me, sexy librarian.”

With a gulp, High-strung replies, “It was my pleasure.”

Clarke cocks an eyebrow and then releases her grip, moving for the door.

Before she gets it open, High-strung clears her throat. “I’m just a plain librarian—not a sexy one.”

Clarke turns and lets her eyes crawl down the length of High-strung’s body. “Believe me,” she says, “you are anything but plain.”

With that, she saunters out of the bathroom, leaving the librarian behind her, blushing.

###

“Ugh, who invited that clown Murphy?” Clarke asks.

She, Raven, and Octavia have been hanging out in the kitchen of the frat house for the last twenty minutes. Raven’s perched on the counter among a sea of empty solo cups and has taken to mixing people screwballs while Octavia makes drunken conversation.

Clarke’s watching the crowd in the backyard through the open screen door, nursing a beer and keeping an eye out for a certain bespectacled librarian.

“Probably someone who needed their weekly fill of psychotic jag-off,” Raven says and then snorts at her own joke.

“Or someone looking to score bud,” Octavia says.

“Who’d put themselves through that just for some weed?” Clarke asks.

“Well hello there, ladies,” Murphy says, stepping inside with a revolting smirk. “Heard you were the people to see for a drink.”

“You heard right,” Raven says.

“But we’re not giving ‘em out for free,” Octavia adds. “What have you got for us?”

“I’ve got a huge _stash_ I’d _love_ to share with you guys.”

Clarke makes exaggerated gagging noises. “The sooner you give him the drink, the sooner he’ll leave.”

Murphy waggles his eyebrows at her.

Once he’s been served and sent on his way, Raven clucks her tongue. “That’s the closest anyone’s come to flirting with me since I broke up with Finn.”

“Maybe because that’s the _fourth time_ you’ve broken up with him,” Octavia points out. “People aren’t sure you’re actually on the market.”

“Well I am,” Raven says defensively.

Octavia opens her mouth, presumably about to make a comment that’ll piss Raven off, so Clarke intervenes.

“I had a quality flirtation earlier,” she says.

Her friends whip their heads around in tandem.

“And you’re only bringing it up now?” Raven asks. “Since when do you hold out on us?”

Clarke rolls her eyes.

“We’ve been with you the whole time,” Octavia says. “Where did you have this flirtation, the bathroom?”

Clarke averts her eyes and takes a sip of her beer.

“Oh my god,” Octavia says.

“You totally did,” Raven piles on.

“Only because you guys didn’t guard the door for me. Friend demerits for both of you.”

“Oh please,” Raven says. “We totally asked if you wanted help and you blew us off. And we’d have come to check on you after a while.”

“Besides, things obviously worked out for you,” Octavia says. “So spill.”

“Well, she has killer legs, a nice ass, was dressed like a freaking librarian, and is good with her hands,” Clarke says in a rush.

“Clarke, you _dog _,” Raven cheers, leaning forward to punch her in the shoulder.__

“What did you—?” Octavia breaks off, clearly not sure how to ask her question.

“She helped me out of my costume so I could pee,” Clarke explains, saving her the trouble.

“And she got handsy during the undressing?” Raven asks.

“Nope, she was perfectly respectful,” Clarke says. “She has really nice fingers, too.”

Octavia laughs while Raven shakes her head.

“You’re a strange one, Griffin,” she says.

“If you’d seen her fingers, you’d get it,” Clarke says.

Before either of her friends can say anything in response to that, a ruckus starts up outside. Clarke glances out onto the porch and notices that the bonfire’s swelling in size.

“What’s going on?” Raven asks.

“I’m not sure,” Clarke says, taking another swig of beer.

“Hey you guys.” Jasper clomps into the kitchen. “Whatcha doing in here?”

“We’re your Charon for the evening,” Octavia says, grabbing the vodka out of Raven’s hands and starting a drink for him. “Wanna take a journey to the underworld?”

Jasper accepts the screwball. “Hmm, sounds pretty dramatic for vodka and orange juice,” he says, but raises his glass in the air.

Raven, Octavia, and Clarke all clink their drinks against his before tipping them back.

Jasper whoops after swallowing and then shakes his head.

“Anyway,” he says, “I meant what are you doing _in here_ when the party’s _out there_?”

“You know what all the yelling’s about?” Raven asks.

“Snow!” Jasper says, as if that explains everything.

Clarke squints out into the darkness. “It’s not snowing,” she says.

“Well no, not yet,” Jasper says. “But it’s supposed to. They’re taking bets on how long it’ll be.”

“Of course they are,” Octavia says snidely.

“Want in?” Jasper asks.

“Hell no,” Raven says. “It’s way too early in the season for snow. I don’t care what the meteorologists are saying.”

When he pouts, she adds, “But I will watch a bunch of idiots lose money trying to predict the weather. You two coming?”

“Sounds amusing,” Octavia says, pouring herself a healthy measure of vodka. She doesn’t add orange juice before following Jasper and Raven outside.

“I’ll catch up in a bit,” Clarke says.

“Where are you going?” Raven asks.

“To find a better seat,” Clarke answers, waving off Raven’s look of confusion.

She takes the stairs two at a time till she’s up on the third floor landing where the wood panel floors are scuffed and there’s a single chipped door. She knocks before pushing it open.

“Isn’t it considered a sin to sit out parties as a frat boy?” Clarke asks Wells, who’s reclining in his computer chair playing a first-person shooter game.

“The cardinal sin, actually,” Wells says.

“Will you be subjected to a second round of hazing now?”

He pauses his game and spins to face her. “I’ll be sent to the stocks first thing in the morning.”

“Harsh,” Clarke says.

“The punishment’s gotta fit the crime,” he says.

Clarke laughs.

“I suppose you came up here just to tease me for being antisocial?” he says.

She shakes her head. “I’m here for the roof access.”

“That’s what all the ladies say.”

“I thought we agreed to never talk about your love life,” she says, “even in a jokey way. Because the thought of you—”

“I know, I know, it’s basically like hearing about your brother. You know where the sunroof is, I don’t need to show you.”

Clarke sticks her tongue out at him before moving into the room and climbing up onto the window seat. She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach the latch to the sunroof and push it open.

After watching her struggle to hoist herself up and through—something she’s done without much hardship while sober—Wells stands and lifts her higher by her thighs.

“Thank you,” she calls down to him while easing the window shut.

When she settles in a seated position, she notices that she’s not alone.

“So we meet again,” Clarke’s sexy librarian says.

“How did you get up here?” Clarke asks. “Do you know Wells?”

“Who?”

“He lives in the room down there,” Clarke says, pointing through the window.

“Oh.” High-strung shakes her head. “No, I climbed the trellis on the side of the house.”

Clarke cocks an impressed eyebrow. “In that skirt?”

“I’m woodsy,” she says, as if that’s an actual explanation. “And I left my shoes at the bottom.”

Clarke laughs loudly and hugs her knees close to her chest. The wind is harsh up on the roof—she can feel her eyes watering—and the glow from the bonfire below just barely illumines the face of her company.

“I’ll probably regret that in the morning,” High-strung says mournfully.

“Ah, that’s nothing,” Clarke reassures. “I’ve done way worse when drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Clarke says, waggling her eyebrows.

“That bad, huh?” High-strung teases.

“Let’s just say that I, uh…I crave physical intimacy when I’m drunk,” Clarke says.

High-strung raises her eyebrows.

“I’ve never gone too far, never gotten into any situations I couldn’t handle,” Clarke says. “I just always end up hooking up with _someone_ when I’m drunk at a party, you know?”

With an absentminded nod, High-strung’s eyes drift down to Clarke’s lips.

“How are you holding up tonight?” she asks, and Clarke doesn’t think she’s imaging the wistfulness in her tone.

“Nothing’s happened yet” she says. “But the night is young.”

High-strung bites her bottom lip.

She’s still staring at Clarke’s mouth.

After a split-second’s hesitation, Clarke surges forward. She grabs High-strung’s face in both hands and guides them together.

High-strung’s lips are already parted by the time Clarke reaches her destination.

With a needy groan, she pushes onto her knees and straddles High-strung’s lap. The other girl responds by wrapping her arms around Clarke’s waist and pulling her closer.

Clarke’s never felt so frenzied or out of control in her life, but she wouldn’t slow down for the world. High-strung’s lips move eagerly against her own, igniting a smoldering burn under Clarke’s skin.

She sucks on High-strung’s lower lip, earning a low gasp of appreciation, and—with disorientingly quick movements—the sexy, sexy librarian flips their position so that Clarke’s pinned against the roof.

To counter, Clarke throws her legs around High-strung’s waist, finding some much-needed friction, and moves her hands under her blazer. The warmth of her skin has soaked into the material of her shirt, and the heat of it stings Clarke’s frozen fingers.

Panting, High-strung kisses her way from Clarke’s lips to her jaw. As she’s sucking on Clarke’s neck, her long fingers dance along Clarke’s inner thigh, making Clarke quiver with want.

Though her thoughts are an incoherent mess, trying to focus and memorize every delicious sensation at once, she still manages to worm her way under the waistband of High-strung’s tight skirt and cup the curve of her ass.

High-strung answers by nibbling on the sensitive flesh of Clarke’s earlobe.

“I need…more,” Clarke says, trying fruitlessly to tug the tails of High-strung’s button up out from her skirt so she can access skin.

With a smirk, High-strung pushes away from Clarke long enough to shrug out of her blazer—tossing it aside carelessly—and untuck her shirt before draping herself back over Clarke and capturing her lips.

Clarke lets out a satisfied sigh into High-strung’s mouth and digs her fingertips into the small of her back.

They both get lost in the exploration of skin for a while, their kisses slowing to a lazy crawl as Clarke traces the defined muscles of High-strung’s back and then accelerating into a feverish whirl when High-strung traces the swell of Clarke’s cleavage.

At some point, Clarke’s hands find their way into High-strung’s hair and she blindly removes clips until the silky locks are set free from their bun. Brunette curtains fall around either side of her face and she’s trapped in a heady cocoon of floral shampoo.

High-strung pulls away to stare down at Clarke. They’re both breathless and when their eyes meet, they burst into gasping laughter.

“I-,” High-strung starts, but Clarke never gets to hear the end of the sentence. At that moment, drops of cold rain start fall from the sky.

The noise from below picks up as people yell in disappointment and scramble to take cover.

Clarke shivers as her skimpy costume is quickly soaked.

For a second, neither of them is sure what to do.

“Little Heda?” a voice calls from below. “Where are you? I’m leaving in ten seconds with or without you!”

“Shit,” High-strung hisses under her breath. “I gotta go.”

Before Clarke can react, she’s crawled over to the edge of the roof and disappeared.

Clarke sits in place, staring off after her sexy librarian and holding her fingertips to her swollen and tingling lips. She’s not sure how long she remains in position before Wells pounds on the sunroof, making her jump.

“Get your ass back in here before you catch a cold!” he yells at her, pushing the window open.

Clarke shakes her head—trying to jumpstart her brain—and then grabs the abandoned blazer before hopping down into Wells’ waiting arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 1,680  
>  **Author's Note:** thank you, thank you to [elizanose](http://elizanose.tumblr.com/) for doing such quick beta work. you're the MVP of my heart  
>  i'm overjoyed by the response so far, and i hope you like the shenanigans ahead!

At ten the next morning, Clarke pounds on Raven and Octavia’s doors. “Wake up, sleepyheads!” she yells.

Minutes later, Raven comes out into the common room, looking more than a little hungover. “Y’know, the beauty of not having Friday classes is that I can get smashed on Thursday and then sleep off my shame in goddamn peace.”

Clarke sets a cup of coffee—no cream, plenty of sugar—in front of her.

Raven eyes it suspiciously before picking it up, sniffing it, and then nodding her approval.

“I need your help,” Clarke says.

“And you couldn’t need our help after noon?” Octavia’s voice is thick with sleep, and her Wednesday Addams makeup from the night before has smeared around her eyes, making her look severe and intimidating.

“No, because the trail could go cold by then,” Clarke says.

Octavia turns to Raven. “Do _you_ have any idea what she’s talking about?”

Raven shakes her head and sips her coffee.

Clarke pauses for a moment, building the anticipation. Once Octavia looks like she’s about to jump over the counter and strangle her, she says, “I made out with someone last night.”

“Big deal,” Octavia scoffs.

“It was!” Clarke says, and then amends, “It _is_.”

“Who was it?” Raven asks.

“My librarian,” Clarke says.

The reveal doesn’t have quite the rallying effect on her friends she was hoping for.

“Ms. Fingers?” Raven checks.

“Yes!”

“So?” Octavia asks. “You’ve made out with Raven at parties before and didn’t drag us out of bed first thing the next morning.”

“First of all, that’s because I always know where Raven is. I don’t need to put together a search party if I want to make out with her again. Secondly, making out with Raven wasn’t a life changing experience.”

“Hey! I’m sitting right here!” Raven protests.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t fun,” Clarke says, “but…you know what? This is so not the point.”

“What is the point?” Raven asks, sounding a little wounded.

“The point is, I think I fell in love last night, and I need your help tracking down my librarian.”

Octavia and Raven share a loaded look.

“I saw that,” Clarke says.

“Well,” Octavia starts. “Can you really blame us for being skeptical?”

“You do tend to go through intense phases,” Raven says.

Clarke’s nostrils flare and she asks through clenched teeth, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh god!” Raven backtracks immediately, realizing her mistake. “That is so _not_ what I meant. I wasn’t referring to the bisexual thing so much as the time you took up cross stitching for a month, started ten different patterns, and then never touched any of them again.”

“Or when you decided to join a beach volleyball league last December, went to a gym to practice _twice_ , and then gave up on the idea,” Octavia adds.

“So you’re not going to help me find this girl because I haven’t taken up any new hobbies in a while?” Clarke asks.

“Well, no, not exactly,” Raven hedges. “It’s just…what do you even actually know about this person?”

“Yeah, you might meet her in the daylight and decide she’s homely or boring or something,” Octavia says.

“Or I could meet her and find out she’s amazing. I won’t know for sure if I don’t track her down, will I?” Clarke asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Her friends don’t respond, so Clarke ups the ante.

“Octavia, remember when you had to submit blueprints for your architecture final last semester.”

Already able to sense where this is going, Octavia rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I drew it for you so you could study for World History. You got an A. In _both_ classes.”

“I know, I know.”

“And Raven, remember just last month when you had food poisoning because you and Finn ate at the Waffle House off I-476?”

Raven frowns at the memory but nods. “You made sure I didn’t get dehydrated.”

“That’s right,” Clarke says. “Now I’m not saying you guys owe me, but…”

“We know,” Raven sighs. “We totally owe you.”

“If you’re calling in favors, you must really like this girl,” Octavia says.

Clarke sucks on her lower lip and nods.

Though she tries not to, Octavia smiles fondly in response. “Fine. Whatcha got so far?”

Clarke grins and pulls a tiny, flip notepad out of her packet. “Okay, there are two clues I got last night that’ll hopefully help us find out my librarian’s daytime identity. First, her ride called her ‘little _hay-da_.’ I’m not sure what that means, though.”

“What’s the second clue?” Octavia asks.

“She left behind her blazer.”

“How very butch Cinderella,” Raven says, smirking.

Clarke ignores her. “There was a tiny pin on there with this crest.”

She flashes them her drawing.

Octavia grabs the pad out of Clarke’s hands. “So what does that leave us with?” she asks.

“After doing a reverse image search,” Clarke says, “I was able to determine that it’s the Pi Sigma Alpha crest.”

“So…?” Raven prompts.

“It’s the national Political Science honorary society.

Octavia nods and slides the pad back over to Clarke. “What’s our first move?”

“I figured we’d stop by the faculty office and see if they can tell us who’s in the group,” Clarke says with a shrug.

Neither of them looks too enthusiastic.

“I’ll buy you breakfast on the way,” Clarke says.

“And promise to never tell slanderous lies about what it’s like to make out with me ever again?” Raven adds.

Clarke suppresses an eye roll. “Fine.”

“Let’s get moving!” Raven cheers, jumping out of her seat.

###

The PoliSci office is located on the third floor of the Arts and Sciences building—or Polis Hall—which is a fifteen minute trek from Raven, Octavia, and Clarke’s favorite off-campus diner.

As they walk across the damp, leaf-strewn grounds of Trigeda U gripping to-go mugs of chai tea in their gloved hands, Clarke methodically scans the crowds of students. With any luck, she’ll just happen across High-strung on her way to class. No muss, no fuss.

“So what are you gonna do when we find this girl?” Raven asks. “Throw yourself down on one knee and pledge your undying devotion to her fingers?”

“I was thinking something more subtle. Like using an airplane to write the words ‘Be my girlfriend forever?’ in the sky.”

“Classy,” Octavia says, jogging forward and reaching the Polis entrance before them. She holds the door open.

“I like it,” Raven says, tugging playfully on a strand of Clarke’s hair.

Clarke sticks her tongue out.

As the three of them move inside, they’re hit by a blast of warmth. Though Halloween is still a day away, some of the staff and students are wearing costumes.

Clarke bounds straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time up to the third floor. Raven and Octavia follow behind at a much slower pace, mumbling to each other all the way.

The gruesomeness of the corkboard outside the Political Science faculty offices catches Clarke’s attention. It’s decorated with blurbs about past wars, famine, and other dark times interspersed with eerily cheery construction paper ghosts.

“Kinda a strange way to get into the holiday spirit,” Octavia comments as she and Raven come up behind her.

“It’s definitely something,” Clarke says.

Raven chuckles.

After frowning at the board a second longer, Clarke pokes her head into the room. There’s no secretary at the desk, but there are plenty of socially acceptable Halloween decorations scattered around the space. She picks up one of the tiny pumpkins sitting on the counter and tosses it from hand to hand, inching further into the office.

“Hello?” she calls softly.

“Anybody home?” Raven adds.

After a moment of silence, Clarke hears the wheels of a chair sliding against the floor followed by footsteps.

A gray-haired man with a clean-shaven face approaches. He’s wearing a tie with a little, cartoon bat on it, and Clarke instantly recognizes him.

“Professor Kane!”

“Hey!” Octavia says. “Clarke and I were in your Intro course last spring.”

“It’s always a pleasure to see old students,” Professor Kane says, nodding in acknowledgement. “What can I do for you ladies? Are you here for a listing of next semester’s courses?”

“Um, no,” Clarke says. “We were actually wondering if you could tell us about this pin.”

She tosses the pumpkin back to Raven and then reaches into the breast pocket of her coat.

Professor Kane accepts the pin from her, squinting closely at the crest.

“Yes, students with a certain GPA are invited to join Pi Sigma Alpha. They all get a similar pin at their initiation ceremony and another one if they become officers. If I’m not mistaken, this is an officer pin. Is there a particular reason you’re asking?”

“We’re looking for someone,” Clarke says. “The owner of that pin, actually…would you be able to tell us who the Pi Sigma Alpha officers are this year?

“I’m afraid not,” Professor Kane says. “I haven’t been able to make a meeting yet this semester.”

Clarke’s mounting excitement dissipates immediately. “Oh, well…thanks anyway.”

“If it’s of any help,” he says, already turning away to return to his cubicle. “We keep a plaque of officer names down that hall.”

After pointing them in the right direction, he disappears.

“Let’s check it out,” Raven says, hooking her arm through Clarke’s and tugging her over to the wall covered in square plaques, each with four names embossed on it.

After a second of browsing, it becomes clear that the sign for the current year hasn’t been made yet.

“Fuck,” Clarke says, tucking the pin back into her zippered pocket. “Back to the drawing board.”

“Not quite,” Octavia says, grinning at the plaque from two years ago.

“Whatcha got?” Raven asks, leaning in over her shoulder to read. She clearly finds what Octavia’s talking about right away because her face lights up. “ _Nice_.”

“What is it?” Clarke pushes the out of the way and scans the list of names.

When she sees who was president for the year, Clarke feels another swell hope.

_Bellamy Blake_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you thought here or feel free stop by my [tumblr](http://catty-words.tumblr.com/) to drop me an ask <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 2,680  
>  **Author's Note:** bless [elizanose](http://elizanose.tumblr.com/) for both betaing this story and for cheering me on.  
>  i'm touched by everyone's comments! this chapter's a bit longer than the one from last night. hope you enjoy. :)

Octavia paces up and down the third floor hall, talking animatedly on the phone with her brother.

“Where can we meet you?” Pause. “Shut up, dude, you’re not too busy to sit down with us for ten minutes.” Pause. “I know you’re in grad school. You won’t let me forget it, you pretentious fuck.” Long pause. Octavia sighs. “If I pay for your coffee, will that change your mind? Good. See you soon.”

“Well?” Clarke asks eagerly as soon as she hangs up.

“He’s gonna meet us at Grinders,” Octavia says.

Clarke brings her gloved hands together with a muffled _pop_. “What are we waiting for then? Let’s get going!”

Grinders, a student-owned café, is nestled amongst several university buildings on the south side of campus. It only takes the girls a few minutes to hoof it there, but the tiny cottage-inspired shop is full of students getting their midday coffee fix.

Raven, Octavia, and Clarke get in line, scanning the menu and listening to the conversations around them.

By the time they make it to the front, Bellamy walks into the store. He nods at Clarke and then stakes out a small table in the corner of the café.

After they order—Clarke gets a pumpkin spice latte because it feels seasonal—they crowd around the high-top table.

“What was so damn important that you called me away from studying to walk fifteen minutes through the cold?” Bellamy asks.

Octavia sets a large, black coffee in front of him with a scowl and then gestures at Clarke. “Ask her.”

Bellamy raises an expectant eyebrow.

“I’m looking for someone,” Clarke says.

“Well, I’m flattered, but I really don’t have the time to date right now. I’m trying to focus on me.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Not you, dipshit. But we have reason to believe you know her.”

“You were president of Pi Sigma Alpha a couple years ago, right?” Raven asks.

Bellamy seems taken aback by the line of questioning and hesitates a moment before nodding. “Yeah…so?”

“So,” Octavia says, “Clarke made out with a girl last night, and the only thing she left behind was some pin or whatever. We found out that the pin is connected to the PoliSci honor society, but we still need a name. Do you know who the current officers are?”

“Nice nutshelling,” Raven says, holding out her hand for a fist bump.

Octavia pounds it.

Bellamy frowns. “The group is only for undergrads, so I’d have no way of knowing for sure.” When he sees Clarke’s face fall, he adds, “Sorry I couldn’t be more useful.”

“No, it’s fine,” Clarke says. She keeps her eyes trained on her hands as she pops the lid off her drink and blows on the steamy liquid. Her stomach drops with disappointment.

She can feel everyone’s eyes on her, watching her silently.

“Look,” Bellamy says, “I _could_ give you the names of a couple people who were a few years behind me. They’re probably still involved in the org.”

Clarke perks up. “That’d be helpful.”

“And I have the email for the faculty advisor. If worse comes to worse, you could always get in touch with her.”

She smiles gratefully at Bellamy, pulls out her notepad, and slides it across the table to him.

As he’s scrawling names and numbers on a blank page, he says, “This girl must have been pretty skilled to have you working so hard to track her down. The Clarke Griffin I know is much better at playing it cool.”

Clarke opens her mouth to shoot a snappy comeback at him, but then clamps it shut again, suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of High-strung’s bodyweight settled over hers and her burning, itching _want_ from last night.

Octavia snickers at her.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already started a shrine to this chick’s fingers,” Raven says, smirking.

Clarke punches her arm. “Would you shut up? You’re making me sound like some kinky, finger-obsessed deviant.”

“If the shoe fits,” Raven mumbles into her cup, taking a sip of her coffee.

Bellamy looks at each of them with a bemused smile and hands the notepad back to Clarke. “I hope you find her.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says, scanning the list of names.

_Indra, faculty advisor – igona@trigeda.edu_

_Luna Flou_

_Lincoln Graun_

_Harper McIntyre_

“Though if you do hook up with her,” Bellamy continues, “you’ll probably want to leave out the part where you tracked her down like a bloodhound.”

Clarke sneers at him as they slide out of their seats.

“Who knows,” Raven says, “She might be the perfect brand of intense for our Clarkie and think it’s romantic.”

“Your support means everything to me, really,” Clarke says, narrowing her eyes at her friends.

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Octavia says.

“Speaking of which,” Bellamy says as he holds the door open for them, “this was easily a conversation we could’ve had over the phone.”

“Whatever,” Clarke says. “Don’t you have to go study or something?”

Bellamy hums, clearly amused, and starts pacing backwards toward the crosswalk. “Thanks for the coffee. See you later, freshmeat!”

“I can’t believe he still calls us that,” Octavia grumbles once he’s out of earshot. “It’s been two years.”

“I can,” Raven says, shrugging.

Shaking her head, Octavia turns to Clarke. “Where’re we headed next?”

“I’m not sure,” she says, showing them the list. “Bellamy only gave us names.”

“Oh, that’s more than enough,” Raven assures. “I can get on the student directory and track us down some contact info.”

“And that’s why I love you,” Clarke says, mussing her hair.

“That better not be the only reason,” Raven says. She snatches the list out of Clarke’s hands.

“To the computer lab?” Octavia asks.

“To the computer lab,” Raven confirms.

###

The computer lab’s located on the second floor of the student union. There’re a couple students already there, wearing headphones and clicking away on their keyboards, so Clarke, Raven, and Octavia choose a desktop at the back of the room and huddle around it.

It only takes Raven a couple seconds to determine that Luna Flou has transferred to a different school and to track down the emails for both Lincoln and Harper.

“What’s our next move?” Raven asks, turning to Clarke. “It’s up to you.”

Clarke frowns thoughtfully. “Okay, stay with me for a second here. I’m just a random student and I get an email from someone who wants to know the names of all the people in one of my orgs. Do I answer it?”

Raven squints. “Maybe not.”

“Finally,” Octavia says, “she understands how crazy she’s being!”

Clarke flicks her in the ear. “Give it a rest, will ya? I promise you can make fun of me all you want if I find this girl and things go terribly wrong.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to make fun of you either way.” When Clarke glares at her, she adds, “But I’ll be good…for now.”

“So, email is maybe not the way to go. Too impersonal. It’s not going to get us any results.”

“What you’re saying is you want me to do some more digging,” Raven says.

“Please?”

Raven sighs but turns back to the computer.

“Hey, you three,” Wells says, coming up from behind them and making Clarke jump. “Fancy meeting you here. Whatcha up to?”

He’s got a stack of books under his arm and a smoothie from one of the food joints downstairs in one hand.

“Clarke’s taken up stalking,” Octavia says.

Clarke scoffs and gives her a pointed look.

“Sorry,” Octavia says, realizing her mistake. “That was the last one.”

Wells takes a seat at the computer next to them and unzips his jacket. “Interesting. And who’s she stalking?”

“Some girl she met last night,” Raven answers, barely looking away from the computer screen.

“Ah, is this the person from the roof?” Wells asks casually, flipping open a notebook and then plugging his flash drive into the computer.

Clarke gapes at him.

“You made out on the roof of a frat house?” Octavia says, incredulous. “That’s pretty hardcore, actually.”

“You saw the sexy librarian with the killer fingers?” Raven asks, cocking her head at Wells. “Tell me: was she pretty enough to cost Clarke her sanity?”

“I didn’t get a good look at her,” Wells says. “Our introduction was solely audio, lacked visual. Thankfully, I might add.”

“Oh god,” Clarke groans, covering her face with her hands.

“Yeah, you’d better be embarrassed, you hypocrite,” Wells says. Clarke can hear the grin in his voice. “They sounded like they were having an exceptional time.”

“Making out. On the _roof_ ,” Octavia checks.

Wells nods.

Raven smiles like she’s just found a pile of gold. “I can’t believe you got hot and heavy on a roof. You, my friend, are a harlot.”

“Shut up.”

“And you don’t even know her name. Usually when I make out with people on roofs, I ask them their name first,” she continues.

“I changed my mind about wanting help,” Clarke says. “You’re all dismissed.”

“Nuh-uh,” Octavia says. “Now I absolutely _have_ to meet this chick.”

Raven turns her attention back to the computer, but her shit-eating grin doesn’t disappear.

“Sorry,” Wells says to Clarke. “I didn’t mean to make you the butt of a joke.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s been happening all day.”

Octavia and Raven snicker.

“So you’re trying to track down your mystery girl, huh?”

Clarke nods. “It’s turning out to be harder than I thought, actually.”

Wells smiles sympathetically at her.

“Oh! I got something,” Raven says. “Looks like this Lincoln guy works the information desk in the library. He made a Facebook post twenty minutes ago about a coworker calling in sick, so he’s probably there right now.”

“Sounds like there’s still hope,” Wells says, pulling some headphones out of his pocket. “Good luck you guys.”

Raven logs out of the computer.

“We’ll send you a picture if we find her,” Octavia says to him. “Get you a visual to go with that juicy audio track.”

He grimaces at them. “I’d really rather you didn’t.”

Clarke pats Wells on the back as they head for the door.

###

In honor of the holiday, the Trigeda U library has set up displays for classic horror novels throughout their annex.

“I’ve always wanted to read this,” Raven says, pausing at the board for Stephen King’s _It_.

“Well you can check it out while we’re here.” Clarke urges her forward impatiently.

They find the information desk pretty easily—it’s in the center of the first floor—and Raven confirms that the man behind the counter matches Lincoln’s Facebook profile picture.

He’s wearing a pointed hat and an unflattering robe, but even still, Clarke can tell he’s well-muscled, with broad shoulders and a thick neck.

“Mmm, break me off a piece of that,” Octavia says, eyeing him.

“Down girl,” Clarke says. “Let me get what I need from him before you go all predatory.”

“You’ve got ten minutes.”

With an amused smile, Clarke approaches the counter. “Excuse me?”

Lincoln glances up from the computer.

Octavia waves flirtatiously.

“What can I do for you?” he asks her.

“We got your name from my brother, Bellamy Blake,” Octavia says in her low, I’m-seducing-you voice.

Clarke and Raven exchange a look.

“Ah, you’re the infamous Octavia,” Lincoln says.

“The very same…though I wouldn’t trust everything Bellamy says about me.”

“Of course not.” Lincoln leans forward, propping his elbows on the counter. “I like to get to know someone myself before coming to any conclusions.”

Octavia’s responding smile is radiant.

Clarke clears her throat.

“Oh, right!” Octavia tucks her hair behind her ears. “So, my friend here was at a party last night and met someone from Pi Sigma Alpha. You’re a part of the org, too, right?”

“I am,” Lincoln confirms.

“We have reason to believe the person I met was an officer. Do you know who they are this year?”

“Well, I’m one of them,” Lincoln says, finally turning to Clarke.

“It definitely wasn’t you,” Clarke says.

He laughs. “Alright. Process of elimination. Was the person you met a girl or guy? What did they look like?”

Raven groans. “Don’t even get her started.”

Clarke elbows her in the side. To Lincoln, she says, “They were a girl, I'm pretty sure. About my height. Brown hair and glasses. Slender but fit.”

“You can stop there,” Lincoln says.

Octavia laughs under her breath.

“I think I know who you’re talking about,” Lincoln says, pulling out his phone. After a second, he holds it out to her. “Did she look like this?”

It takes a second because she’s not wearing glasses in the picture, but Clarke’s heart skips a beat when she recognizes High-strung’s face.

She presses her lips together and nods enthusiastically.

“That’s my friend Lexa Woods.”

_Lexa Woods_. Clarke repeats the name in her head and grins to herself.

“Where can we find-” Raven starts to ask, but someone coughs politely, interrupting her.

The girls glance behind them. Quite the queue has gathered.

Lincoln straightens and hands something to Octavia. “Here's my card. Let me know if you need the name of any of my other acquaintances. Or you can call me just because.”

She practically bats her lashes at him. “Okay. See you around.”

As they walk away, Clarke checks back. “He’s still watching you,” she tells Octavia, who smiles knowingly.

“He’d better be.”

###

“Would you stop pacing? Jesus.” Raven grabs Clarke’s arm and pulls her down onto the couch.

With their scavenger hunt _technically_ over, Raven, Octavia, and Clarke are back at their apartment. But Clarke’s not feeling anything close to closure.

“Sorry,” she says, settling between her friends. “I just…I have a lot of energy to burn.”

“You have an easy in now,” Octavia reminds her. “We’ll get in touch with Lincoln in a couple days and set up a double date or something.”

“We could do it sooner if you weren’t too busy playing it cool.”

“So you’re saying I should take my dating cues from you and start off by revealing as much of the cracked side of my personality as I can?” Octavia asks, cocking an eyebrow.

Clarke ducks her head, fixing her gaze on her lap.

They’re all silent for several moments until Raven heaves a dramatic sigh and pushes herself up off the couch.

She comes back seconds later with her laptop tucked under her arm. “Let’s find Fingers the Librarian.”

“Lexa,” Clarke corrects with a smile, testing the name out loud for the first time. “Lexa Woods.”

“Wipe that lovesick smile off your face before I become too ill to actually track this girl down for you,” Raven says, but her fond grin lets Clarke know she’s teasing.

She leans into Raven’s side, resting her head on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome.”

After only a few minutes of searching, Raven finds a couple social media profiles.

“I guess she is kinda smokin’,” she says, turning the laptop toward Octavia, who nods approvingly.

“Not bad.”

“I told you guys,” Clarke says smugly.

Raven chuckles. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here. PoliSci major, but I think we knew that…looks like she works in the financial aid office…she and her friends apparently do a lot of hiking…wait a second! I recognize that house!”

Clarke sits up and squints at the computer. “How?”

“I wanna say I went there spring semester freshman year. A bunch of girls taking a Women’s Lit course got together to complete the final. This house is on South Water—it’s right across from campus.”

That’s all Clarke needs to hear. She hops out of her seat and grabs her coat off the hook by the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” Octavia asks her.

“To find Lexa.”

“Clarke, she could live with murderers,” Octavia says. “She could _be_ a murderer!”

“Well then I guess you guys are bad friends if you don’t come along and make sure I’m safe.”

With that, she steps out into the hall.

Seconds later, she hears Raven and Octavia running to catch up with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you thought here or feel free stop by my [tumblr](http://catty-words.tumblr.com/) to drop me an ask <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 3,920  
>  **Author's Note:** one last thank you to [elizanose](http://elizanose.tumblr.com/) for supporting me through this, reading over chapters at the last minute to make sure they're good to publish, and generally being a gem of a person. seriously. you've made a life-long friend, pal.  
>  so i hope you all enjoy clexa fluff becuase that's what i have in store for you. thanks to everyone who's been following along. i'm so blessed by the response to this fic.  
> happy halloween, kru!

“Are you sure this is the right one?” Clarke asks Raven.

They’re standing on the sidewalk in front of an old, white townhouse with forest green shutters and a young oak tree growing on the lawn.

“Fuck if I know, Clarke. I only visited once over a year ago.”

Clarke bites her lower lip and turns back to the house. Now that she’s here, faced with the very real possibility that Lexa’s just a doorbell ring away, nerves are making her stomach bubble.

Her friends sense her hesitation.

“You didn’t come all this way just to turn around and go home without at least talking to this girl,” Octavia says.

“Yeah,” Raven adds, rubbing her back soothingly. “Channel the Clarke from this morning—that girl was gonna stop at nothing to sweep this sexy librarian off her feet.”

Clarke shakes her head at their cheesy encouragement, but it does help a little. With one last deep breath to steel herself, Clarke walks up the short driveway to the front door.

“What?” The person who answers the door has long, sandy blonde hair and a scowl on her face.

Definitely not Lexa.

“Oh, um, hi.” Clarke stumbles over her words. “I was, uh…”

The scowling girl raises her eyebrows expectantly. “Spit it out.”

“I was hoping that, um, Lexa lived here?” It comes out as a question.

The girl narrows her eyes at Clarke, giving her the onceover. “Let me guess. _You’re_ the sexy vampire.”

Clarke gets so excited that she almost moves in for a hug, though it’s pretty clear that’d be unwelcome. “I am! Yes! That’s me!”

The scowler rolls her eyes and pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Fine.”

“I-,” Clarke starts, confused, when the scowler holds her phone up to her ear, but she gives Clarke a look so sharp that she snaps her mouth shut.

“I have someone here for you,” the girl says into the phone and then hands it over to Clarke.

“Hello?” Clarke asks. “Who is this?”

“This is Lexa…who is this?”

Clarke nearly drops the phone, but recovers at the last second.

The scowler clucks her tongue in disapproval.

“Hi, Lexa! Hey. This is, uh…my name’s Clarke. We met last night.”

After a pause, Lexa says, “Yeah, I remember you.”

Clarke can hear the smile in her voice.

“I think I’m standing here with your roommate.”

“Yeah, that’s Anya. Don’t be put off. She’s like that with everyone.”

Clarke cocks an eyebrow at Anya, whose scowl deepens.

“Good to know. So, this is gonna sound a little weird, but I-I’ve kinda been looking for you all day.”

Lexa laughs and Clarke holds the phone closer to her ear. “No, actually, that’s a relief to hear. I’ve kinda been doing the same thing.”

Clarke glances back at her friends, who are still waiting expectantly on the sidewalk, and sticks her tongue out at them.

Octavia readily flicks her off.

Into the phone, Clarke says, “Okay, cool. We should meet up sometime then.”

Though she sounds lame, even to herself, Lexa responds enthusiastically. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Absolutely!”

“Great. Get my number from Anya and text me your address. I’ll pick you up at 5.”

Clarke bites her lower lip and turns away from Anya, feeling weird to be sharing this private moment with someone she’s known for less than ten minutes. “It’s a date,” she says quietly.

“A date,” Lexa confirms and then the line clicks off.

“You two are gross,” Anya says, holding out her hand for her phone.

“Do you mind if I text myself Lexa’s number really quick?”

In response, Anya purses her lips and crosses her arms over her chest.

When Clarke’s done, she gives the phone back. “Thanks for your help.”

“ _Gross_ ,” Anya emphasizes.

With a smirk, Clarke jogs back to her friends. “True love prevails, motherfuckers!”

“Oh yeah,” Raven says, “What happened?”

“I have a date!”

“With the freaky looking chick?” Octavia asks.

“No, that’s Lexa’s roommate,” Clarke explains as they start the walk back to their apartment. “But she called Lexa for me and we talked. She’s been trying to track me down, too.”

“Well what do you know? Maybe you two _are_ meant to be,” Raven says.

“So you guys can stop making fun of me now,” Clarke says.

Octavia cackles. “Fat chance, Griffin. You’re still never gonna live this down.”

Clarke sighs, but she can’t seem to wipe the dopey grin off her face.

“That’s fine. I have a good feeling that it’ll be worth it.”

###

Clarke reads the text Lexa sent her for the hundredth time: _wear something warm. I’ll see you at 5 - can’t wait!_

“Where are you guys going?” Wells asks. He’s sitting at her desk reading a paperback while Clarke gets ready.

“I don’t know,” she says, tugging a beanie onto her head. “Lexa wouldn’t tell me. She wants it to be a surprise, isn’t that cute?”

“If you think it’s cute, then it’s cute,” Wells says.

“Your father would be so proud of that answer,” Clarke says. “Diplomatic in the extreme.”

Wells laughs, unmoved.

Clarke spends a couple more moments staring critically at her reflection before turning to him. “How do I look?”

Wells takes in her outfit—jeans, rain boots, a fuzzy purple sweater with a v-neckline, and an insulated vest—and nods his approval. “You look nice. I like your hair like that, all wavy and natural.”

Clarke smiles brightly. “Thanks. What time is it now?”

He checks his watch. “It’s ten till five.”

She grabs her purse and heads for the common room.

Raven is sitting on the couch with her laptop and looks up when Clarke enters the room. “You all ready to go?”

“I think so. What do you think?”

“I think you look fine as hell,” Raven whoops. “I see you even broke out your best jeans.”

“Well, I want my ass to look as good as it can.”

Wells joins Raven on the couch. “You know the drill. Be careful; it’s Halloween and people might get weird tonight. Call if you need a ride home.”

“Yes, _Dad_ ,” Clarke says as someone knocks on the door.

When she opens it to find Lexa in the hall—dressed in black skinny jeans and an oversized sweater atop a collared shirt—a huge smile spreads over her face.

“Hi,” Lexa says, smiling back at her.

Lexa’s hair is down, flowing in thick waves to her waist, and her face is flushed and rosy.

Clarke wants to pull her in for a hug or gently brush her hair out of her face, but she’s already spent all of yesterday hunting this girl down. She doesn’t want to come on any stronger and end up scaring her away.

“Hi,” Clarke finally manages after a second of awed staring.

“Oh my god.” Raven pretends to gag inside the apartment.

Lexa swallows hard. “Are you ready?” 

After shooting a dirty look at Raven, Clarke steps outside and locks the door to the apartment behind her. “More than.”

“Let’s go.”

###

“Let me get this straight,” Clarke says, getting out of the car and following Lexa up the gravel path. “We’re having a picnic.”

“We are.”

“In 40 degree weather.”

“Autumnal.”

“In a _graveyard_?”

Lexa pauses, blushing and casting her eyes toward the ground sheepishly. “It seemed festive.”

“Oh, well sure,” Clarke says, glancing around at the sprawling hills covered in tombstones and colorful leaves. “Nothing puts me in the mood like a bunch of dead bodies.”

“We can go somewhere else if you’re uncomfortable or _too high-strung_ to handle this,” Lexa says as her eyes dance mischievously.

Clarke scoffs. “Nuh-uh, missy. I am not falling for that.”

Lexa shrugs her shoulders like she doesn’t know what Clarke’s talking about.

“Besides,” Clarke says, walking up ahead of Lexa. “I wanna experience the date you imagined for us exactly as you’ve planned it.”

She glances over to catch Lexa’s reaction just in time to see her eyelashes flutter and her lips curl up in a tender smile.

When their eyes meet, they both glance away with a nervous titter.

Lexa picks a spot at the crest of one of the smaller hills and unfolds a thick blanket on the ground under a sassafras tree. Clarke settles, cross-legged, next to her while she unpacks a thermos from her picnic basket.

She pours them both a cup of whatever’s in there and hands one to Clarke, who takes a whiff. Hot chocolate.

Raising her glass, Lexa starts a toast. “To Halloween and frat parties and complicated costumes that require a stranger to help you pee but make your tits look great.”

Clarke can’t help the boisterous laugh that bubbles past her lips and rings out through the cemetery. She taps her cup against Lexa’s and adds, “To roofs and tenacity and grumpy roommates.”

“Hear, hear,” Lexa cheers before they both take a sip of their drink. After she swallows, she says, “Speaking of tenacity…”

“You want to hear the story of how I ended up on your doorstep, don’t you?”

Lexa licks her lips and nods.

“Okay, but if I tell you what I got up to yesterday, you have to tell me your story, too.”

“Deal,” Lexa says, holding out her hand for a shake.

Clarke grips it, and the feel of her cold fingertips transports Clarke back to the roof, when the same fingers were dancing along her inner thigh.

Reddening, Clarke extracts her hand.

Lexa seems flustered, too, immediately moving her hands into her hair and sweeping it over one shoulder.

“Okay, so, the story.”

“Yes,” Lexa agrees.

“Well, I started off with nothing but a pin.” When Lexa cocks her head, Clarke reaches into her bag and pulls out Lexa’s blazer. “I believe this is yours, by the way.”

Lexa shakes her head at herself. “I’m still missing the shoes, but this is good. At least now I can say I only lost $40 worth of clothes instead of 60. Thank you.”

“Anything to save you a bit of shame,” Clarke says, winking. “Anyway, you have your Pi Sigma Alpha pin on there, so my first stop was the PoliSci faculty offices to see if they had an org roster or something.”

“And did they?” Lexa asks, leaning her elbows on her knees and watching Clarke’s face carefully.

“No, that would have been too easy! We talked to Professor Kane, who showed us the officer plaques.”

“That wasn’t helpful. We just had the new one ordered last week,” Lexa says.

“Oh but it was,” Clarke says, waggling her eyebrows. “We saw that my friend’s brother was listed on the one from two years ago, so we got in touch with him. He gave us some names of people who were a couple years behind him, and then my other friend did some internet sleuthing till we were able to find your friend, Lincoln, at the library.”

“Ah.” Lexa grins. “Remind me to thank Lincoln later.”

“So, that’s how I got your name.”

“And how did you find my house?”

Clarke bites her lip. “Would you believe that I made a deal with the devil in exchange for that information?”

“Well it is Halloween. I hear he hangs around this time of year, waiting to make deals in exchange for some souls.”

“Exactly,” Clarke says, and her cheeks pinch from smiling so wide. “Your turn.”

“Right, well, my story doesn’t have a triumphant end like yours, so prepare yourself for tragedy.”

“I don’t wanna prepare for tragedy,” Clarke pouts, sliding down onto her side and propping her head up on her elbow. “I’m really hoping these kids get a happy ending anyway.”

Lexa’s lip twitches upward, but she doesn’t let the movement bloom into a fully-fledged smile. “We’ll see.”

“So…,” Clarke prompts, “our story starts when a high-strung librarian runs into the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen and is instantly enchanted.”

Lexa raises an eyebrow. “Something like that.”

“After a night of enchanted making out—but before the librarian can get the beautiful girl’s name—her magical coach is turned into a rotting pumpkin thanks to some rain.”

“I think we’re mixing metaphors here,” Lexa says.

“Well then you take over,” Clarke says, poking at her calf muscle.

Lexa nods. “Alright. The morning after the enchanted making out, the librarian realized what a mistake she’d made and resolved right then to find the beautiful girl. So, as a courtesy to the fraternity, she waited till noon before visiting the house and asking around about a sexy vampire.”

“An admirable first step,” Clarke interjects.

“Unfortunately for the librarian, her beautiful girl was not the only vampire at the party last night. I was sent to the dorm of the wrong girl.”

Clarke’s heart jumps excitedly when Lexa says ‘ _her_ beautiful girl.’

“What’d you do then?” she asks, trying to keep her voice even.

“Apologize profusely. Buy myself a conciliatory smoothie from the student union.”

“And then?”

“I was trying to come up with my next move when I got the call from Anya.”

“And you said there was no happy ending,” Clarke says.

Lexa winks at her. “Are you ready for dinner?”

Clarke sits up eagerly. “Definitely. Whatcha got in the basket, Little Red?”

After letting out a heartfelt laugh—her head tilted back and her eyes closed—Lexa starts to unpack their meal.

###

“I’m stuffed,” Clarke says. She lies on her back, looking up at the smoky gray sky, and folds her hands over her stomach.

Lexa settles next to her—close enough that Clarke can feel the heat of her, but too far away to actually be touching. “I’ve never seen anyone put away caramel apples like that.”

“Well they’re really only good for one week. When they’re in season, you gotta get your fill for the whole year.”

Lexa rolls onto her side and her eyes rove over Clarke’s face. “You have much wisdom.”

Clarke’s heart skips a beat as she imagines tugging Lexa toward her by the collar of her shirt. Instead of doing that, however, she gulps and fixes her eyes on Lexa’s lips. “I’m a regular Halloween connoisseur.” 

“You’ll probably like our next activity then.”

“Oh yeah?” Clarke raises her eyebrows. “What’s that?”

Lexa fixes her with a Cheshire grin and sits up. “There’s a pumpkin patch past that line of trees over there.” She points. “I thought we might grab a couple, go back to my place, and do some carving. Whoever designs the best pumpkin gets to pick the movie we watch.”

“Oh you are so on,” Clarke says, already scrambling to her feet.

###

“You’re cleaning up any mess you make, got it, little _Heda_?” Anya says, eying Clarke and Lexa suspiciously as they cover the kitchen table with newspaper.

Lexa’s house is easily the best kept campus-adjacent housing Clarke’s ever seen. Though the pipes are creaky and the floors scuffed, the entire place smells like cinnamon sticks and is a cozy kind of cluttered.

“Don’t you worry,” Lexa says, making a funny face just for Clarke. “I’ll be sure to leave the kitchen in ruins just for you.”

Anya growls—actually, literally growls—and then heads for the stairs.

“Why does she call you that?” Clarke asks as she opens a package of pumpkin carving tools. “Little _hay-da_.”

Lexa shrugs and rotates her pumpkin, looking for the best surface on which to draw a face. “We’ve known each other since we were kids and used to play out a bunch of imaginary situations—office space, pet shop, warlords.”

“So, usual kid stuff,” Clarke says.

“Right.” Lexa grins. “The nickname just kind of stuck.”

“I like it. Sounds regal.”

The girls smile at each other and then work in silence for several moments.

Clarke can feel Lexa watching her as she quickly saws off a lid from her pumpkin.

“Why did you make a notch like that,” Lexa asks, pointing at the little jagged edge poking out from Clarke’s otherwise smooth circle.

“It helps keep it lined up when you need to put it back on,” Clarke says, demonstrating.

“Handy,” Lexa says, taking the tool from Clarke and mimicking her technique. “You really are a Halloween connoisseur.”

“I learned that from my dad.” Clarke focuses on rolling up her sleeves so they don’t get dirty as she scoops out pumpkin guts. “He was a really big fan of holidays—of slowing down and getting the family together—but he especially loved Halloween. He used to deck out our yard to be a spooky haunted house, and all the neighborhood kids loved him.”

“He doesn’t do this anymore?” Lexa asks gently.

“He died a couple years ago,” Clarke says. “While I was still in high school.”

Lexa nods, silently reaching over to give Clarke’s arm a squeeze.

Clarke clears her throat and plops a glob of pumpkin onto the table. She tries not to let the direction of the conversation affect her mood, but she almost can’t help it. Nearly four years without him and the loss still creeps up on her, the wound tender as ever.

She’s so trapped in the downward spiral happening in her head that she almost bursts into tears when Lexa lobs a ball of pumpkin guts at her, hitting her cheek with a wet _plop_.

When Clarke turns to her, mouth agape, Lexa smiles—a huge shit-eating grin—and Clarke can’t help it. Laughter rings through her, making her chest feel lighter.

“You are going to pay for that,” Clarke says, reaching into her pumpkin. Before Lexa can react, Clarke’s smashed a handful of seeds and guts into her hair.

As Lexa stands there, astonished, some of the mess drips onto the floor.

“Right then,” she says after a second. “Prepare for war.”

Clarke grabs some ammo and then tries to dance out of reach, skirting around the table, but Lexa’s fast. She catches up to Clarke, who throws her handful in Lexa’s general direction but still manages to be backed into a corner.

Lexa grins triumphantly before smearing innards on Clarke’s chest.

Some of it drips down her shirt.

They’re both winded from their laughter, but when their gazes lock, Clarke feels her breath catch in her throat.

Lexa moves in a little closer, wiping some pumpkin away from Clarke’s mouth with a cool finger. Her lips part as she stares into Clarke’s eyes.

Clarke’s gaze falls to Lexa’s lips as her hand finds Lexa’s waist.

Neither of them moves in for the kiss. It’s like they’ve made an unspoken game of seeing who’ll break first.

“I am not cleaning this up.” Anya’s voice jars them back to reality and they jump apart.

Lexa starts gathering bottles of disinfectant from under the sink. “I got it, I got it.”

Anya hums knowingly, cocking an eyebrow at Clarke. It feels strangely vulnerable to be under Anya’s scrutiny and she has to look away.

“Clarke, do you wanna freshen up?” Lexa asks. “I can show you where my bathroom is.”

“Um, yeah, I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

As Lexa’s leading her down the hall, she hears Anya chuckling to herself.

###

Clarke ends up taking a shower to make sure all the pumpkin chunks are out of her hair and cleavage.

When she turns off the water and steps out of the tub, she notices a towel and some clothes set out for her.

After drying off, Clarke pulls on the well-worn, thin sweatshirt and fleece pajama pants. They smell incredible—like faded perfume and something more distinctly _Lexa_.

With a smile on her face, Clarke pads out into the living room.

A freshly showered Lexa is there, lighting scented candles around the room. The startup menu for _Hocus Pocus_ is playing on loop on the television.

“Hey,” Clarke says, pulling the sleeves of the sweatshirt down over her fingers.

“Oh good, you’re still here. I wouldn’t have blamed you for bolting after that,” Lexa says, jabbing her thumb toward the kitchen.

Clarke waves off her concern. “No, it was actually kind of fun.”

Lexa smirks and nods. “So, uh, I chose our movie since the whole pumpkin carving metric didn’t work out. I tried to go with something as inoffensive as possible.”

“You did good,” Clarke says, sitting cross-legged on the couch. “ _Hocus Pocus_ is a classic.”

Lexa sits next to her, the right side of her body pressing up against Clarke’s left, and presses play.

By the time the backstory’s been established, Clarke’s threaded her fingers through Lexa’s, and just as the sisters are being resurrected, the girls are falling sideways, Clarke settling over top of Lexa and her head resting on her chest.

Soon after that, neither of them is paying attention to the movie at all. They’re too busy paying all their attention to each other.

Clarke’s not sure which one of them technically breaks first. She’s the one who scoots up Lexa’s body so their faces are level, but Lexa’s the one who cups Clarke’s face, sinking her hands into Clarke’s hair.

By then, they’re both ready to fall together, lips parted and eyes fluttering closed.

###

Lexa’s hands are smoothing down the length of Clarke’s back and Clarke’s fingers are tangled into Lexa’s hair by the time the credits start rolling. When they pull apart with a soft _smack_ , Clarke realizes just how raw her lips feel.

Her head falls back onto Lexa’s chest and she sighs sleepily.

Lexa’s lips find the top of Clarke’s head. “I should take you home,” she whispers into Clarke’s hair.

Clarke nods but doesn’t move from her position.

When they finally get up, Clarke collects her stuff, tracks down her purse, and then follows Lexa to her car.

Stepping outside into the cold is bracing, but it does little to wake Clarke up. She feels like her head is full of cotton candy or clouds or…Lexa.

They’re silent on the ride back to Clarke’s apartment—Lexa’s focused intently on navigating the streets full of drunken idiots—but they hold hands the entire way, Clarke using both hers to cradle one of Lexa’s.

When she pulls up to Clarke’s building, Lexa turns the car off and they both step outside.

“So,” she says, looking flushed and bashful.

“So,” Clarke repeats.

“You had fun?”

Clarke nods. “Of course, silly girl. Didn’t you?”

“I had an amazing time,” Lexa confirms.

“So we’ll do it again,” Clarke says. “Soon.”

Lexa kisses her nose in agreement.

They loiter a couple more minutes, holding hands and sneaking pecks on the lips, till Clarke feels her phone vibrating in her bag.

“It’s Wells,” she says. “He’s probably worried about me.”

“I’ll let you go then,” Lexa says, sounding more than a little put out about it.

“I’ll call you,” Clarke promises, kissing Lexa one last time and lingering as she pulls away.

Lexa whines softly in the back of her throat.

“The ending just keeps getting happier,” Clarke whispers.

Lexa smiles sleepily as Clarke takes a couple steps back toward her building.

“Happier and happier and happier,” she says.

###

Once she’s in bed, snuggled deep under the covers and wearing nothing but Lexa’s sweatshirt, Clarke dials Lexa’s number.

“Hello?” she answers with an amused laugh.

“I just wanted to hear your voice once last time before I fall asleep,” Clarke confesses in a whisper.

Lexa hums and Clarke can tell she understands.

“Y’know,” Lexa says after a moment, “I think Halloween is my new favorite holiday.”

Clarke lets out a contented sigh.

“Mine, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you thought here or feel free stop by my [tumblr](http://catty-words.tumblr.com/) to drop me an ask <3

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know what you thought here or feel free stop by my [tumblr](http://catty-words.tumblr.com/) to drop me an ask <3


End file.
